Day 14: part 2 - Fourth butoh dance class

After seeing the dance performance the previous night, I was even more excited to see what this night's class might hold.

Yoshito Ohno sensei started the class with a squeezing exercise. The same cloths as last time were handed out, and the first words that I heard him say were that Obama is squeezing a cloth for Syrian suffering, for the children who are suffering. I suppose this means that Obama must be agonizing over the suffering in Syria, yet must further know and understand that his own powers to solve the world's crises are limited. What should he do? What is he going to do? When I practiced this exercise, I squeezed the cloth. I thought it was important not to necessarily try to pull the cloth apart, though that was my first inclination. Instead, just squeeze the cloth in my hands. Furthermore, in order to squeeze my whole body, I flexed every muscle that I could feel: my abs, chest, arms, legs, feet, neck, face, and head. If my hair could flex and squeeze, I would try to do that, too.

Then Yoshito showed what it means to squeeze. While the arms are squeezing the cloth, the shoulders want to move forward, to go somewhere else. However, the shoulder says, "I won't go, I won't go." It is as if someone holds you from moving. We should squeeze our hands and our body as counter to each other. The body turns and twists away from the hands that are squeezing so much; trying to turn away, but cannot, "I won't go, I won't go." He illustrated this by holding one dancer's shoulder back, while the dancer had to try to push through, but couldn't. That is how our shoulder should move, as if someone were holding it back, but it wants to move forward, move away. But then it breaks through, and lets loose when it is free. So we exercised with that idea.

He then showed us pictures of painting by a Japanese painter I had never heard of, Leonard Foujita. Yoshito said that he painted many kinds of workers and children, suffering children, children crying. Kodomo, kodomo, kodomo. Dance.

The next lesson Yoshito began by talking about Hijikata. Hijikata asks us to practice sleeping. What is it like to let your body go. It might be a little unbalanced. Feeling will follow when unbalanced. Being a little unbalanced is very important. He then reminded us of crying children. Dance.

Ohno sensei then recalled the dance performance from the previous night. He noted that I was there, along with a couple of other students. That made me feel good. He told us that Mana san has special eyes. She can't see, so we can't see her. Be a crying child; watch me; watch my eyes. He said that it is the same in Kabuki. This is very important. He then reiterated a comment from the previous class, that even for opera singers, singing pianissimo is the most serious, and the most difficult thing. Tamete: store everything, hold yourself like a spring that is ready to burst.

He then brought out tissue paper. Kazuo said that the soul is first; Hijikata says that life is first, then form and body follows. Were Hijikata and Kazuo saying different things? Were they saying the same thing? Yoshito claimed that young people cannot express themselves, so one purpose of theatre is that we should teach them how to express themselves, and show them how to do it. Use the tissue to make a flower. What is beauty? What is kind in you? He reminded us that I do not make the flower, but I bring it out. Think about the blind dancer who cannot see. Doesn't that mean that we see too much? Afterall, she seems to live wonderfully, and express herself perfectly. How does she see, then? We should try to see with the heart.

After bringing out flowers through the material of the tissue, Yoshito then brought out buckets of water. He said that he was inspired by Mana san's reference to Helen Keller the previous night. Usually, he said, he does this exercise during the winter, when the water is nearly frozen. However, he was bringing it out today so that we could try to relate to the example of Helen Keller. Paper soaks in water; we should make our body soak in the water in the same way. Make your body soak in the air; make your body soak in the music. Then it is your music; Chopin's music becomes Kazuo's music. So it was with tango and La Argentina for Kazuo. Be like Helen Keller: this is water... this is water. When I put my hands in the water, and tried to tansfix my mind on the experience, Yoshito came to me and adjusted my pose. This is the second time in these classes that he has given me personal attention to try and make my exercise and practice more effective. I appreciated it.

Yoshito then spoke of Hijikata again. He said that their first butoh dance was in 1959. Hijikata was strong, with bronzed skin. Two years later he returns, and he was weak, and cold and white. Instead of a strong dance, he danced a bone dance; he didn't need muscles. Kazuo was in the war for 9 years. Life has an effect on psyche, and thus on dance. Water soaks in. This is water. How cold is it? The senses are delicate. Let them be delicate and soak in life.

A little girl. Her mother. The tsunami. Aaaahhh! Dance and soul come out. Dance as if the soul comes out. Angry... with pain. When Kazuo dances, people hear his soul screaming out. We better practice this. Aaaahhh! Let the soul come out.

Kazuo knew that the end was the most important, always thinking of difficult matters. But he picks music without meaning. Like life, we should keep struggling and wrestling with this. This resonated with me. I have often said that in time based art forms, like story telling and music, that the end is the most important. It was good to hear Ohno sensei say the same thing. I also like that he pointed out that music is meaningless. This must mean that we bring meaning to the music. How do we do that? Where does meaning come from? What justification do we have for bringing such meaning to music?

The next exercise was a revisiting of the cotton bunch. Yoshito said, "Strong," and pulled the cotton apart without breaking it. Indeed, before this class, I never realized how strong cotton was, yet how soft it was, and how easily it could be broken. He pulled it apart. Strong. Delicately. Stretch it out. I am a baby now. Soft, so with a baby's body. This time he played music by Antony Hegerty, whom he frequently referenced over the last couple of weeks, but whose music didn't play (while I was there) until today. The reason that Yoshito talks about Antony a lot is that Antony and Kazuo had a performance together soon before Kazuo died. Antony's music turned Kazuo into a little girl. When he transformed into a little girl, and Antony saw this, Antony then realized the power of his music, and now tries to imbue his music with the power to transform.

Become a little girl, with an audience of 1000 people, with an audience of 10,000 people. The little girl stretches cotton, and searches for mama lost in the tsunami. But remember that in Japanese culture, Yoshito says, that a little girl is shy to meet guests, then curiously approaches, mysteriously. It is very important to be mysterious. But first you must have space; it is because of the space that you are shy. This reminded me of my friend's children in Shizuoka. Are they shy? They certainly stayed close to mama and papa when I first came, but they opened up quickly. Why? Was it because of me? Or was it because of them? Or was it because of the intangible relationship, the invisible connection, the unknowable energy that somehow existed between us? Think about performing in front of 10,000 people. It is no different, and no less magical than performing for just one person.

Then Yoshito told us to become stone. But everyone's stone is different. I am happy that he said that last part. For me, the connection is made with the gently smiling Jizo statues made of stone found throughout Japan. They are almost always childish looking. But then I also make a connection to the Jizo from Soseki's "Third Night." This was a heavy stone Jizo that weighed on a man and reminded him of his guilt. Experiene stone.

But before we were dismissed from my last butoh class, Yoshito surprised us with a completely different exercise. Someone asked him (or Kazuo) what butoh is for him? There are many different answers, with many different goals. He showed us a picture of a Salvador Dali painting. I don't know that that meant, or what connection that Yoshito was intending. Perhaps this was related the the previous class's comment that butoh was surrealism (or was it realism?). In any case, Kazuo's response to the question followed. What is butoh for you? Yoshito said "pray." Or was it "play?" Both interpretations seemed relevant. Either way, is play different from pray? Then he told us that he would play Vivaldi's "Spring," "Primavera." Spring brings skipping. Children jump and skip during spring. Store it all in your body, and then like a spring, let it out! Run and skip all over! Skip low, skip high. Everyone was running and skipping around the studio. Everyone seemed so happy and envigorated, which contrasted with the typical notions of butoh, and most of the exercises we had been performing.

That was how the class ended. Afterwards, like all the other classes, tea and sushi rolls were set out to eat and drink and socialize. I spoke with some of the other students who could communicate in English, and got contact information for some folks. I hope to keep in touch with these wonderful artists and new friends. I finally spoke with Yoshito Ohno and told him how much I learned, how inspirational it had been, and how much I appreciated the class.

Day 14: part 1 - Tokyo Sky Tree

Yet another morning came, and I didn't know what to do with my last full day in Japan. I knew for sure that I would go to the butoh class tonight, but that wasn't until 8 o'clock. What was I supposed to do until then?

The sky outside was beautiful, and as usual from my Asakusa hotel, I had a great view of the Tokyo Sky Tree. This reminded me that about a week ago, or so, my friend had taken me here, and I had thought about coming back. The reason that I wanted to come back to the Sky Tree was because I enjoy taking photographs and creating panoramic collage images by stitching the photos together. When I was in Tokyo six years ago, I went high in the Mori Hills Tower in Roppongi to create a similar collage. Since this place was so close, and I have made other such collages (Vatican City comes to mind), I felt like I should take advantage of the opportunity and try to create another such collage of Tokyo, from a far different perspective. (Also, I didn't want to bother my friend with me taking several hundred photos all around the observation deck, so I couldn't do it before, but this time would be perfect because I was alone.)

When I got to the observation deck, it did not seem like the day was as clear as it had seemed from almost 400 meters below. There was a lot of haze in the atmosphere, and the far away buildings could not be seen as clearly as I had hoped. Eh, well these are the ways that things happen sometimes, but the project would have to get done.

So I started snapping away photos from each of the windows all around the Sky Tree observation deck. Because there were so many people, this did make it a bit challenging simply because I would have to wait for a people to leave a window that I needed to shoot from.

At one point, in the rush to sneak into a space where I could get the shot I wanted, I accidentally brushed against someone's leg. I quickly apologized, and he seemed to have no problem with the matter. In fact, he and his wife began to talk to me, and ask me questions. We ended up having a conversation for about 30 minutes about travelling, America, Japan, family, and cameras. This conversation happened in a some sort of pidgin language that incorporated my own broken Japanese, their broken English, and a lot of hand gestures. I really enjoyed the conversation that I had with these folks, and almost didn't want it to end. However, I had pictures to take, and they had to go get lunch, so that was that. Before leaving, the lady insisted on giving me her business card, and appreciated it. I hope to email all of the people I've met here in Japan after I return home.

In any case, I finished snapping all the pictures, but before I left I had to take a shot of the uniform that the Sky Tree staff were wearing. I loved the little designs on the shirt, and only later realized they are stylized trees. But the best part of the outfit was the scarf that the men had to wear around their necks. Men don't wear kerchiefs like this anymore.

Day 13: part 3 - Mana Hashimoto

(Although there was a photographer taking pictures during the performance, I believed it was her personal photographer, so I didn't feel comfortable taking pictures myself.)

My first day in the dance classes, the manager of the studio was happy that I had come all the way from New York for the class. There certainly seemed nothing special about that since there were so many other international students there as well. She was very happy to pass on some information, however, about a New York based Japanese dancer who was going to perform tonight in Shibuya, Mana Hashimoto. So, in addition to taking some dance classes, I could experience a dance performance as well.

Despite my coming here the previous night, I still got lost. But because I knew where I was supposed to be, and what landmarks I was supposed to pass, I found my way back on the right path fairly quickly.

When I got to the place, I was happy to see some of the students from the dance class. It was the one guy whom I thought was the best, and the most serious, along with what seemed to be his dance partner and/ or girlfriend who also attends the class. Because he speaks a little English I tried to start a conversation with him, but he didn't seem very interested for whatever reason. It might be that he is one of those artists who is always very serious and in dance-mind mode, or perhaps he was just shy, or insecure about his own English language abilities. Either way, I didn't mind too much.

The space was rather small, simply an open space with a wooden floor on the fifth floor of this building. It reminded me of any number of small spaces in which I have seen independent productions in New York City.

I was also very happy to see our dance teacher there, Yoshito Ohno. I didn't want to invade his space too much, but we did exchange nods, acknowledging each other. He seemed to be the superstar that I had envisioned him to be, because when he walked in, everybody seemed to realize it. Many of the people from the venue rushed up to greet him, and introduce him to other people. They laid out circular cushions so that everyone could sit on the floor comfortably, about three rows deep. Along the back wall, there were chairs or stools where people could sit. Mostly these seemed to be reserved for the older people in the audience. I think that before the performance began, there were probably about 50 people in the audience. Along with the 500 yen (five dollars) admission fee, a free drink was included, so I started off with a beer. I felt that I might need to be a bit intoxicated to really get the most out of whatever I was going to see.

While I was waiting alone for the performance to begin, I read over the performer's bio and program notes. The performance was called "Presely" after Elvis Presely, and the spirit of the show was to somehow acknowledge or communicate with or honor her father, who passed away in the 1980s and loved Elvis Presely to the point of even being a bit of an impersonator. Furthermore, she had moved to America in 1993 to study music composition. In 1998 she became completely blind by some previously undiagnosed defect in her optic nerves.

Mana Hashimoto began the performance with a long monologue. I suppose that she was trying to explain what the performance was supposed to be about, and what she planned to accomplish with the performance. Or something. Because it was all in Japanese, I didn't understand a thing, so I just sat quietly and stared. Because she became blind later in life, here eyes looked like they were normal, except that they seemed to be staring off into a space very far behind us.

When she began to dance, there was no music accompaniment, but she simply sat on a fur covered stool in the middle of the room and moved her arms and legs. She really used her hands and feet when she danced. She then stood and violently threw the stool aside after seeming to analyze its texture.

A man came in and rolled up like a bug on the floor in front of her, holding up a blindman's cane as if it were a tree, and he were the rock it was growing from. She felt her way towards him, and crawled on him, almost in a loving manner. After a few moments, the man threw her off and walked away. She then used the cane, and seemed to be convulsing with it. I couldn't quite make sense of it, but I wonder if I was supposed to.

When she stood up with the cane, it seemed as if she was using it as an oar, and rowing an imaginary boat upon which she was floating. Was the boat on the ground? In the water? In the air? Before I could answer that question, she seemed to stab herself in the throat with the cane. She fell to the foot of the audience, who all seemed to be startled, and scooch back, even moving their drinks so that nothing would be spilled.

When she finally makes herself stand back up, I she seemed to walk with the cane as one might imagine a blind person walking with a cane down the street. She then folded up the cane neatly and carefully, and then uses the short prod to analyze and feel the texture of her face and neck. She then used her hands and fingers to feel the silk texture of her shirt, along the jewel studded collar, before she took it off, and folded it neatly, wrapping the cane with it and setting it down nicely. (I forgot to mention that earlier she had taken off her pants, and threw them off to the side.) Now she was wearing only a sports bra and sports underwear. After turning her back to the audience, she then pulled her bra off over her head, set it down, and walked towards the wall, all while her back was to the audience. That means that we never got the opportunity to see her naked breasts while she was dancing against the wall and before another attendant came in and dressed her in a cream colored blouse and pants, a contrast from the red blouse and black pants she was wearing to being the performance. Perhaps this was to signal a significant transition in the performance. What we were transitioning from or to, however, I could not tell you.

She then stood straight up and approached the audience and began to speak to the audience with another monologue. I supposed that she was saying something about Elvis and her father, and the relation he had with Elvis. Again, I could not understand much of it at all. This monologue seemed to reflect the openning monologue, and I guessed that it might signal the end of the performance. It did not. While the openning monologue seemed long and lasted several minutes, this one wsa shorter, and lasted only a few minutes.

She then returned to dancing, and remained in a pose with her back arched backwards, and arms behind her while looking to the ceiling. It seemed that she purposefully kept herself from blinking. Perhaps this helped bring a single tear to drop down her face as she remained in the statuesque pose that was supposed to represent some deep emotion that usually illicits tears.

She the seemed to dance with the spirit of her father for several minutes before falling to the ground. When she got back up, she seemed to hug her father in a caressing and loving manner. Even groping for his legs when she was still on the ground. After she embraced him for a hile, it seemed that she was thrown back, by what, I don't know. Was it supposed to be her father pushing her away, or some other force that was seperating them forcefully?

She then danced to the Elvis' song "I can' Help Falling in Love With You." (In fact, I am fairly sure that is not the name of the song, but that is the line that stands out most in the chorus.) To be sure, though most of the performance was unaccompanied by any music, there were a few spots throughout where some Elvis song or another was playing. However, these were few and far between, and the music only lasted for a couple of minutes. When the music was playing, she seemed to dance responding to the music, but her movements were not very different from the movements she performed when there was no music. The excerpts she selected seemed to be about some emotion that perhaps she felt for her father, but what Elvis song does not express such common emotions?

After the song finished, she stood straight up and announced that she was done. She then spoke for several minutes about Helen Keller and her essay "Three Days to See." I suppose that Mana Hashimoto, being blind but still wanting to participate in the world find some affinity with Helen Keller and the struggles she overcame.

I have my own feelings and opinions about the performance, but I can leave that for a later time. I have already talked for long enough. I will make a serious effort to see her perform the piece again in New York City in December. I introduced myself to her, and asked some questions, and I was very happy to be in the audience for this performance, and meet her.

Day 13: part 2 - Kamakura

I wasn't sure what to do with the rest of my day before the concert later that night. I had supposed that I could go to Kamakura either today or tomorrow before the class. It might actually make more sense to go tomorrow sense it was closer to Yokohama, where my dance class would be later that night. Since I couldn't really think of anything to do with my time, I decided that I would go today. Since I was already in Shinjuku, and a direct train to Kamakura left from Shinjuku, it was convenient enough to head out now.

If I were honest with myself, I only went to Kamakura because I felt obligated to go. To be sure, nobody was forcing me or expecting me to go, but I just felt that since I was here in Japan, I should take advantage and see all the typical sites that guide books say I should see. I wasn't very excited to see more Buddhist temples of Shinto shrines, but there was one thing that was unique about Kamakura.

For one thing, it was the administrative center (call it the capital of the country, if you want) during the first shogunate. Military warlords took control of the government in Japan in the late 12th century, and made Kamakura their capital, while the emperor stayed in Kyoto, basically relegated as a spiritual leader of Japan. However, over the past 800 years, little remains of the Kamakura shogunate.

One standout site that does remain, however, is the Great Buddha bronze sculpture. I figured that I should see this. I didn't want to be such a spoil sport, though, and so I went in the opposite direction to see a couple of the other sites on the map, as well. The first site was a Shinto shrine. They are all starting to look the same to me, and this one was not too exciting, except that it had a lily pond of to the side. That was interesting enough to see. Then I went to explore more of the shrine, but I saw that there was an entrance fee. Last week I would have been willing to pay the fee that was the equivalent of a couple of dollars. But not so today.

Looking at the map, it seemed that there was a fancy Buddhist temple further up the way, so I made my way up there. The signs that I saw on the street said that it was only a kilometer or so, and that didn't seem like it would be too far. One thing that maps typically don't show, however, is that the kilometer walk was all up hill. The heat was starting to get to me, and my clothes were already soaked with sweat, but before I had a chance to quit and turn around, I was there, and not a moment too soon. I walked up to the temple, and snapped some photos of what I could see from the outside, but again, I wasn't willing to pay the entrance fee, so I quickly turned around and walked back.

Basically, to make it to the Great Buddha sculpture, I would have to retrace my steps all the way back to the train station, then go another mile or so to the temple with the big Buddha. One thing that I've noticed about this trip is that nearly all of the big tourist attraction sites are accompanied by long streets filled with vendors trying to sell souvenirs, or food, or whatever they can to make a buck on the tourist market. To be sure, I don't think that this is a uniquely Japanese feature; places all over the world have been taken over with folks who are trying to make a buck. Even more, I don't think that this is a new feature of human civilzation. I am sure that people were trying to get whatever they can from whomever they can since the beginning of time, and since travel is not a new thing, I am sure that souvenir salesmen are not new either.

By the time I made it to the Great Buddha sculpture, I was exauhsted, but this was one site that I was willing to pay for because it was something different. Again, it was only the equivalent of about three dollars, so it didn't break the bank. I was very tired and worn out when I got there, but I found a shade under a tree, and was able to appreciate the sculpture quietly. I don't know why some things bring a peacful calm over me, but this did, and I felt a bit better. Maybe all this walking was worth it. Even still, though, I did have an appointment in Shibuya tonight to see a dance performance, so after a little bit of rest and relaxation in the Buddha's shadow, I made my way back to the train station to head back to the hotel, take a shower, and go back out.

Day 13: part 1 - Shinjuku

I started the day intending to go to the Japan War Responsibility Center. It is a center that was established by the Japan-China Friendship Foundation, and I thought it would be a good place to research and discuss and gather ideas about how different attitudes in Japan are trying to reconcile with actions perpetrated during World War II.

After my success in finding the performance space the previous night, I thought I would be adventurous, and see if I can make it two for two in finding Japanese addresses. I looked on the website for the location of the space, and even wrote down a couple of phone numbers just in case. That part should have had me a bit hesitant, that there were two phone numbers to write down. One was from their English website, and the other was from the Japanese website. Furthermore, the English website had an address, but the Japanese one did not. I suppose a more intelligent person would have first called to make sure where I was going, and if the place was even open. Well, I'm not a more intelligent person, so I just set out.

I got out at the proper train station and supposed that the location was nearby. I experienced the same troubles finding the address as I did the previous night. But I had time to kill, and I was up for a fun adventure, so it was fine. After about a half hour hunting from here to there, I finally found the address. The ground floor was a grocery market, and I looked up to see if there was a sixth floor; luckily there was, so perhaps I was in the right place.

When I went into the lobby of the building (behind the grocery market), I asked the guy if there was anything in suite 607, but he said there was no suite 607. He looked at the address I had written down, and supposed that it might be the next building over. I wasn't confident that would be the case, but I went anyway. Indeed, it was apartments, and again, there was no suite 607.

Perhaps I had interpretted the address in reverse order, but after finding the other block, I saw that the numbers didn't match up, so... I decided to call it quits, and found an off the kilter bookstore. It was fun to see alternative books and comics and toys that weren't prominently displayed (if displayed at all) at the big bookstores. I found a comic by one of my favorite alternative manga artists, and bought it. I picked this one because it was perhaps one of the more recent ones, and the clerk informed me that it was signed by him. Cool.

Trying to give the Japan-China Friendship Society one more go, I found a payphone near the train station and called one of the numbers. When the person answered the phone, I first asked if she spoke English. She didn't. It is a lot easier communicating with someone face-to-face if they don't speak too much English, and I don't speak too much Japanese, but over the phone, I had no idea where to begin, so I just repeated my decision to quit. I had already found a very informative museum in Osaka that expressed ideas from a similar side of the spectrum, and I wondered if they would be able to give me material that would help my research much, anyway, seeing as how I was illiterate in Japanese.

Day 12: part 4 - Address Hunting in Shibuya

I am still trying to get a hang of how Japanese addresses are situated. It seems that they pick out the city, then the neighborhood in the city which is demarcated by a chome number, then they number the blocks within that neighborhood, then buildings within the block, then the suite number within the building. Perhaps it seems easy enough when I say it like that, but it is challenging to figure out what chome number you are in, and even what neighborhood within a city that you might be in. There are very few signs that actually give this information. What makes it worse is that when you look at buildings, the address is not very prominently displayed, that is, the block number along with the building number.

Looking for the dance venue, I caught a break when I noticed a sign that said that the neighborhood museum, Shoto Museum was this way. That means that this must be the Shoto neighborhood then, right? Well I had nobody to ask or give me the answer, so I just continued on as if it were. The challenge was figuring out what neighborhood number I was in. I was looking for chome 1, but this could just as easliy be chome 2 or 3. I figured that since we were close to the main road, maybe this was chome 1. (Is that how these things are decided?) Then I kept looking for building addresses that might tell me what block number this is. Again, this seems like it would be straight forward, but if you just start numbering across a piece of paper, when do you decide to stop one row of numbers, and then continue numbering on a different row? This is part of what makes this block numbering system rather difficult for me to manage. I am willing to bet that to be a letter carrier, one must study the maps and numbers for quite a long time before he is able to pass some sort of test that makes him eligible to deliver mail. I can't imagine ever passing such a test. (From past experience, it seems clear that taxi drivers are not hip to the system, and cannot even help me find a place that ends up being across the street.)

In any case, I was proud of myself because I finally found the place, and figured out just a little something about the Japanese address system. Very interesting. I looked at my watch and realized that I was more than an hour late for the performance, which probably only lasted an hour anyway. All's well, though, becuase this means that I know exactly where to come tomorrow, right?

Day 12: part 3 - Back in Tokyo

There is going to be a dance performance tonight in Shibuya, but I am not sure that I will be able to make it in time. First I have to leave Yokohama, where the class is. Because of the time I arrived and left Shizuoka, I decided to leave all my bags in a coin locker in Yokohama. That means that I have to pick up all these bags, and then take them to my hotel, check in, drop off the bags, clean myself up, and then make it to Shibuya by the time the show begins at 7. This probably won't happen, but I will try.

I am staying at the same hotel that I was staying at last week while I was in Tokyo. Because of my experience with a private room in Osaka, I was hoping that I would be able to uprgrade to a private room here. In the hotel in Osaka, it was not too much more expensive than staying in the dorm style rooms. Maybe it would be the same here. When I asked, the woman at the front informed me that the private rooms are significantly more expensive than the dorm style rooms. I was considering it for a second, but I decided against it. However, if the same sort of loud people are here this time, I might reconsider. It looks peaceful enough now, though.

Checking in and dropping my stuff off went faster than I expected. Maybe I would be able to catch the dance performance tonight. I took a quick shower and figured that it should only take me about 30 minutes to get to Shibuya. That is not the problem. The main problem is not getting there, but is finding the place. After getting ready, I realized that there was no way that I would make it in time. I was still riding high from the dance class, though, so I decided to go to Shibuya anyway. I figured that even though I would not make the show, I could still find out where the venue was so that I would be able to make it tomorrow. It certainly isn't an exciting adventure, but it is something to do.

Day 12: part 2 - Third Butoh Dance Class

The most surprising parts of this trip have been the Butoh Dance classes. They are surprising because I did not expect to enjoy them so much. Certainly I expected to enjoy visiting friends, and spending time with them, but I thought that the dance classes would simply be an interesting educational experience and little else. However they have inspired many different ideas, and hopefully I can try to manifest some of these ideas and make them happen.

Today I decided that I would have a pen and paper in my pocket the during the class so that I could take notes, and better recall what was said, and what thoughts I had regarding the class. One interesting thing that I noticed was that during my first class, last Sunday, Ohno Yoshito sensei spoke a lot of English. Perhaps he liked me or something, or he wanted to be nice to me. Maybe it was because about half the class was from the west. In any case, this time, he did not speak much English at all, and so I had to understand what he said through a sort of translator. I say that he was sort of a translator because Ohno sensei would talk for a couple of minutes at a time, but when the head dancer translated for me and one other Australian, he condensed everything that was said into a couple of pithy sentences. Clearly I was missing a lot, but if I did understand everything, it might have been too much for me to take in, anyway. Even when the little bit that I did understand (which I think must have been about 10 percent or less), there was still quite a lot for me to absorb. In any case, I will try to translate my notes as best I can below.

The first thing that I understood was Change. Now go. Space is a big problem in dance. What sort of solutions should we arrive at? How can we develop solutions?

The next idea to grasp was that dance is connected to the world. Butoh is connected to world crisis; the dancer cannot be by herself, or isolate herself. To be a dancer, one must feel the tension of the world now. He made a reference to the civil war in Syria, and how the United States might interject its force there. But more then just world crisis, butoh is also connected to everyday life. He told a story about how Diaghelev told Ninjinski to interject more daily life into ballet. How can dance have passion if it isn't related to daily life? We should examine the space for the dance within the context of daily life. This reminded me of GK Chesterton, and how he asks us not to be amazed with things that are uncommon; it is not the solar eclipse that is fascinating, but rather the sun itself is fascinating; earthquakes should not make us tremble, but that there is the earth itself should make us tremble.

Ohno sensei then moved onto the bamboo exercise, reminding us that body and emptiness lead to strength. While dancing with the bamboo, reach high, and reach low. Be heavy, and be light. Dancing with bamboo, he instructed us to dance within the smallest possible space.

He then explained something about the playfulness of children of Brazilian streets. They want a silent night. Then he played the song "Silent Night." This song is mostly about the birth of Christ, but for some reason my mind focused on the resurrection instead. I remember a philosopher made a comment, "If Christ is risen, then nothing else matters. And if Christ is not risen, then nothing else matters." He then took the bamboo away, and told us to continue to dance within the smallest possible space. I tried to dance in the same way I did when I had the bamboo.

Ohno sensei then reminded us that we have to dance as if we are dancing for the audience that is 300 meters away. Wave to a friend who is so far away. Throw him a ball. Nice catch! Then we paired up and on opposite ends of the studio practiced throwing a ball to a far away friend, and catching it. He then illustrated that music makes a difference. He played some electronic music that could have been composed by Xenakis, but I don't know whose music it was, in fact. Then he asked us to dance for someone who is 300 meters away. After that was finished, he asked for an encore, and played what seemed like fast paced tango music, which was a far cry different from the previous Xenakis-like music he just played.

The next lesson was about how butoh and surrealism are related. Butoh likes surrealism. (Or was it realism (which is far different from surrealism)? I couldn't tell through their accents which word they were trying to say. But surrealism makes more sense to me.) In order to get this idea across, he suggested that we dance with our back. Out back is very important. He said that Japanese people care about the back. When you see a person's back, you see her past, and everything about her. Senaka de. Fists down. He said that people could hear Kazuo's soul scream through his back. Also, remember that any moment is a picture, so be cognizant of every part of your body. Open the eye on your back. Here he just had us practice walking down the studio, trying to make our soul scream through our backs. At one point, Ohno sense put a stick into my back. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to respond to this; was I supposed to straighten up more, or let the stick curve my back down? I opted to hunch. But as I saw him do this to other students, they all stayed straight up, so I straightened my hunched back.

For the next lesson, Ohno sensei informed us that palm trees have flowers that come out of their tips. I wasn't sure how accurate this was, or how accurately I understood him, but I went with it. He wanted us to transmit feelings through the tips of our fingers. If we are sad, be sad through the tips of our fingers. He also reminded us that in Japanese culture, if something is hidden, it is beautiful.

Ohno sensei then told us about how Mishima Yukio thought about butoh. Mishima said that butoh shows us what is material. In space you become material. I didn't quite understand what any of that means, but it reminded me of a photo that I had seen of Kazuo Ohno standing up against a wall. When I first saw the photo, I did not understand what the big deal was. Then I showed it to a friend, and he was amazed by his hands and his face, as he had his back against a wall. This photo is what I thought of when I practiced.

The next lesson reminded me of Buddhist readings I have seen. Ohno sensei reminded us that life is composed of good and bad. Life has pleasure, but it has pain, too. There are very rarely times that life is a series of consistent ups. Rather, what we typically experience is a series of ups and downs, in succession. He then tied this back to the earlier idea that butoh is about daily life. While we care about the audience, the most important audience is the audience above, the spirits that are watching you. He gave us a cloth to squeeze. Squeeze the anger you have inside into the cloth. Of course, when you walk on glass, your foot hurts, but when you lift your foot, strength returns. This is daily life.

He then informed us that it is difficult to say something important quietly. One of the more difficult things in opera, Ohno said, was to sing quietly in pianissimo, but still imbue it with passion and gravity and importance.

Omokage. Even after squeezing the cloth, and trying to get out all of our anger, something still remains in the body. It can be seen. So squeeze the body. Even when the music fades out, continue squeezing. Don't fade out quickly. Dance under a full moon.

One of the last things Ohno sensei had to say was that Europeans seemed to not understand Kazuo's dancing. Afterall, he used the same movements whether he was happy or sad. How can we use the same movements if we are happy or sad? Is that daily life? I don't know.

Finally he had us dance Kamihitoe, with a tissue between our hands. This is one of my favorite exercises that we have had here. He then reminded us that the Buddha's smile in many sculptures is very slight. It made me think of the enigmatic Mona Lisa smile. Neither smile is very large or excited, but quite subtle; not so subtle as to not recognize it as a smile.... What are they smiling at with such a smile? Dance.

I had originally thought that by writing notes out, it would help me better remember the class. Indeed, it did. However, as I rewrite it now, I only have more questions, and it seems to make less sense. Perhaps it is not supposed to make sense, but rather help us practice.

(The photos are of new friends from the dance class.)

Day 12: part 1 - Leaving Shizuoka

My friend and his family drove me to the nearest Shinkansen station. It took about 30 minutes to get to, which jives with everything else in this part of the country being a bit more remote. I tried to remember to snap a few photos of the family before we left, but I forgot. I also regretted that I didn't take any pictures of their home or the surroundings while I was there. I think I was a bit nervous about catching the train to Yokohama. He and his daughters did walk me to the train station, though, and that was nice. The younger daughter seemed ot be in a bit of a bad mood. It actually made me feel good that she might have missed me, but I think it is more likely that she was in a bad mood because it was so hot and uncomfortable.

They got me to the train station with enough time to relax before I caught the train. It surprised me that the train ride was scheduled to be 90 minutes long. From Osaka it was about 2 hours, and now another hour and a half just to get to Yokohama (not even Tokyo). This fact told me a little bit more about how nice and out of the way this part of Shizuoka is. It wsa certainly a pleasant and peaceful way to spend a day.

Day 11: part 2 - Shizuoka with a friend

Before planning this trip, I had reached out to many of my friends who were Japan, and asked if they were free to meet for lunch, or dinner, or a drink, or something. One friend, however, invited me to stay in his home for one night. I felt very welcomed by this invitation, but a was hestitant because I knew that he was very busy with work, and that he had a family with three children. I did not want to be a burden on him and his family. He did seem to insist, however, and so I felt obliged to drop in on my way from Osaka to Yokohama.

He picked me up from the station, and before going to his home, we stopped by the market to get food for a barbeque. Granted, I have not been in Japan very much, but I had never seen so much meat in one place. Although the store had a lot, it was a bit claustrophobic, not because the store was small, but because the aisles that they designed made it seem small. I found it curious that it was basically one long aisle designed like a queue at an amusement park. Everyone had to follow this one path that curved and turned and cornered a round the store, making sure that everyone got a chance to see what they had to offer.

On the way to his home, my friend explained to me the layout of the city. It was certainly a small city in comparison with Tokyo or Osaka, and only had around 80 thousand residents. I looked around to see where these 80 thousand people might be because there were so many rice paddies, tea fields, and other farms that I did not see many people or homes in this quaint town. He informed me that the town was widespread, and so the population density was small. I liked it. He had just built his home last year, and before that the land had never been built upon. His neighborhood seemed very new and quiet with relatively few homes. Right across the street from him was a large hill, so he could be sure that no one would build there. It was a nice, out of the way home.

When we went inside, I met his beautiful family with three children, two older girls, and a boy. The girls were 5 and 4, and the boy was about 18 months. I had a lot of fun playing with them, and enjoyed hearing about their lives since I saw them last in 2007. Having me two friends on this trip (one here in Japan, and one in Los Angeles), it seems that when you buy a house, you become a handiman, perhaps moreso in Japan since new homes are built when you move in. That means that my friend, while he hired a construction firm to build the house, had to build the deck, paint the walls, build a fence, and driveway, and he has hopes to really expand, too. Between seeing the big house on a hillside, happy family (that I am sure has its rough patches), and kids running around, it made me reconsider some of my own choices regarding family and a more sedentary home life.

After the barbeque, my friend took me to a local Japanese izakaya, which is basically a pub. He is clearly an entrenched member of the community, and as he entered, he greeted everyone, and when people came in later, people greeted him. Some of the patrons tried to make whatever conversation they could with me, discussing Japanese literature, or history, or just the neighborhood in general. My friend informed me that since he has been here for more than twelve years, he feels like Japan is home more so than America, where he was raised. Afterall, he has a career, family, and a home here. He told me many things that he liked about being in Japan, such as the fact that people are so much more polite here than in America. Another thing that he appreciated is that new people he meets are generally shy at first, and then open up as they get to know him; he said that he is like this himself. A funny thing he told me is that when he meets people from work outside in the real world, they will generally exchange the minimum amount of pleasantries. However, after a drink or two, people will really open up, and become your best friend. Then when you see them again later, when they are sober, they maintain their reservedness.

Day 11: part 1 - Saturday morning

It seems that I have been quite tired the last couple of days. I don't know why this might be. Maybe it is because I have finally succumbed to jet lag. That would mean that for the first several days, I was riding some sort of high based on the novelty and excitement of being in Japan. It might also be that I have been pushing myself too much lately, with running from one place to another in order to feel like I am getting the most out of my trip. Maybe I wasn't getting as much sleep as I should have. Or it might be the heat and humidity of this place in this time of year. Maybe it's a combination of those things, or more, or something else entirely. I am disappointed because I feel that my research and writing at this point in the trip are beginning to suffer. I can't quite think of the right words to write, or reasonable thoughts to think.

It surprised me that I slept so much yesterday, and yet today I woke up tired. In fact, yesterday I slept until the afternoon, then went to see Dreamgirls, then came back to my hotel and slept until the next morning. I knew that I would have to travel today, and that there wasn't much that I could do before going to the train station to catch the train to Shizuoka, but still I felt like something was wrong, or not right, or I don't know what. Like I said, maybe I was just tired; I often feel like this when I am tired. In any case, after taking a shower and doing my laundry, I forced myself to take a walk around the neighborhood, and see what Shin-Imamiya was like.

Being in this new place for the first time on Wednesday, I thought it was great, and I noticed how many inexpensive hotels seemed to be in the area, and how well it seemed to cater to the hostel-traveller community. One reason this excited me was because even if I stayed in this hotel for a month's time, I would still pay less for the room than I currently pay for my apartment in New York City. It seemed like Japan and Osaka could be quite affordable!

But walking around this morning, I seemed to pay attention a bit closer to what I had only noticed out of the corner of my eye for the past few days. It seemed as though this neighborhood was devoid of women. Every now and again, I would see a woman riding her bike down through the street, but it seemed that it was about ninety percent men around here (not counting the western faces I saw and assumed to be tourists). And it wasn't just men from across the board who populated this area, but a very specific type of man, it seemed. They were mostly middle-aged, and very thin, and frail and tired looking with faces that the sun had made rough and leathered. When they walked, they were slow in their pace, and moved as though they had just finished a marathon. Maybe these men were coming home from work after laboring all night? If they weren't moving, then they were squatting on the sidewalk, reading the paper, or talking to a friend. Some were sleeping on the sidewalk, and more than a few were in wheel chairs, being pushed by another man. The thought occurred to me that, just as I had supposed the cheap rates at these hotels would make low monthly rentals for living, several of these men might have come to the same conclusion, and were living in the same hotels I was staying at. Indeed, I would often run into middle-aged, leathery faced Japanese men in the elevator of the hotel, making his way to the shower. Perhaps in between the Pachinko parlours I would see several of these men stumble out from, and whatever else they happened to do with their time, these might be their homes.

Day 10: part 2 - Dreamgirls

It felt odd that I slept so late today. Perhaps the ordeal of getting home the night before took a lot out of me. In any case, since I did wake up so late, going to either of the far out places of Sakaiminato or Wakayama seemed out of the question by now. My friend had left me the address of the theater, but not the nearest train station, so I had to figure that out for myself. To be honest, I didn't even know what show I was going to see.

As I made my way through Osaka, following the map that I hoped would lead me to the right place, it started to rain. This reminded me that the night before my friends had told me that a typhoon was expected to come to Japan this weekend. I was worried because this might affect my scheduled train trips, and accomodations. Anyways, that wasn't the problem ahead of me at this moment; right now I had to find this theater.

Although I had doubts that the map was certain, I ended up at Festival Hall, only a little bit wet. Since I didn't know what kind of show to expect, I was very surprised when I arrived at a large theater suited for Broadway-style shows. The show I was about to see was Dreamgirls. I was only familiar with this show as a movie that was released a few years ago, but I later learned that it was originally a Broadway musical in the 1980s. I was even more surprised with I found my seat. I was dead center, in the first box-seat in the theater. I felt like a VIP at this show!

Dreamgirls was enjoyable. It was about a musical group of black women that spanned the years from the 1960s to the 1970s. Although the plot itself didn't have much politics, there were a couple of elements that the director snuck in that really caught my eye, especially in how they used the American flag within the set design, turning it from red white and blue in one instance, to black with white stars to connote difference in meaing. In fact, the set design was rather minimal, with most of the job being done by large video screens that moved around the stage. I thought this was quite brilliant and economical, having moved the American cast and staff all the way to Japan, and the rich costumes stood out much flashier with minimal backgrounds.

Despite my complaint earlier in the trip regarding viewing theater, perhaps this was the cosmos telling me to open my mind a bit more, and pay attention to theater a bit more. I certainly learned a lot watching this show, and I hope to use some of the interesting ideas soon.

Day 10: part 1 - what to do on Friday?

I woke up quite late today. This was especially inconvenient because I wasn't sure what I would do today. Three options lay ahead of me.

The first was to go to Sakaiminato. It is a city in the country-side in the far west of Honshu, the main island of Japan. The reason that I wanted to go there was because there is a special museum to a favorite son of Sakaiminato, Mizuki Shigeru. A few people had discouraged me to go to Sakaiminato because of its distance. However, it is that very fact, that people were discouraging me from going, that made me want to go. That said, two things were working against me going here from the very beginning. The first is that the city is so remote and out of the way that the train ride to get there is quite long, and involves many transfers. It would have been four hours, and three transfers. The other thing that was working against this trip is that I had already gone to a museum exhibition of his work in Osaka the previous day. Having seen that exhibition, and since I am not especially interested in his work, it seemed that the trip to Sakaiminato just wasn't in the cards.

The other option that I wanted to explore today was going to Wakayama. One of my students is from Wakayama, and she was really trying to sell me on going there. In fact, after looking at websites and doing some research on Wakayama, it was a very beautiful place with several outstanding sites and features. However, while Wakayama City was only about an hour away, many of the beautiful features of Wakayama prefecture were quite far away, and really deserved more than a day trip to visit. Unfortunately, it did not seem like this was the right time to go to Wakayama, either.

The third option as to what to do today really came out of the blue. A couple of years ago, I worked with a stage director during a musical theater festival in New York. Like these things go, I connected with him on Facebook, but we never met face-to-face ever again. By chance, he posted on Facebook that his current show was having its premeire in Osaka this week. When I saw this, I quickly emailed him and noted what a coincidence this seems to be, and that I would love to stop by to see his show. He told me that he would be happy to have me, and that he would leave a ticket for me for the 2:00pm show on Friday.

Day 9: part 4 - getting home

It was getting quite late, and I was worried about getting home before the last train ran. They assured me that I would be fine, and that I would be able to catch my train. I was even more scared because I was drunk, and so I might not be able to transfer properly without getting lost, or stumbling on the tracks, or something else.

Once we got to where I was to transfer, my friend told me where to go, and to have a safe trip. Somehow it might have been her reassurance, or even my good luck from catching the last train a few nights ago while in Tokyo, but I didn't bother to look at my watch, so I didn't know what time it was. But when I did get to where I was to catch my train, I discovered that the last train had left the station. Ugh. I wasn't sure how to get home, and Japanese taxis are notoriously expensive after midnight. (One interpretation might be that they are opportunistically taking advantage of stupid people like me who were too drunk to catch the last train. I asked the station agent as best I could what direction I should walk in order to get to where I wanted. He reminded me that it was a far walk, but pointed in a general direction. I figured that I could just follow the train tracks, which were above ground, and as long as I went the right way, I would get to my hotel. So I started the walk.

The first thing that surprised me outside the train station was that many girls were coming up to me and uttering something I couldn't understand. I figure that they were prostitutes. Perhaps if I were more sober and in my right mind, I would have accepted their propositions, but I had a long walk ahead of me, so I decided against it.

After walking for about twenty minutes, I had already lost the train tracks, and had no idea where I was, or what direction I was heading. I didn't really feel like doing this anymore, so I hailed a taxi, and he took me to my hotel. I asked him what price he thought it would be, and it seemed reasonable enough. Taking a taxi instead of walking was probably the right choice from the beginning, anyway.

Day 9: part 3 - visiting new friends

I had an appointment to meet two people who agreed to alleviate my loneliness for at least one evening. They were friends of a friend who suggested that I meet these ladies in order to learn more about Osaka, or eat good Osaka food, or discuss prospects for my teaching career in Japan, or something else entirely. I wasn't quite sure.

While I was still in New York, I had called my friend, and asked her if she had any suggestions for what I should do while in Japan. I wasn't sure what she could offer, and I don't think she and any idea what to consider either. Perhaps I had put her on the spot and had forced her into an uncomfortable position. In any case, she suggested that I meet with her friends, who were also teachers and might be interested in some of the same things that I am. And so I would have to meet these friends tonight. I wasn't sure what I had gotten myself into, and I am sure they didn't know either. At least they outnumbered me, and if I was a bad or uninteresting guest, then at least they could talk amongst themselves.

It so happened that I enjoyed myself with my two new friends. We discussed many interesting things under the intoxication of alcohol and fried food called kushikatsu, which, apparently is an Osakan specialty. Basically they take anything edible under the sun, and fry it. This isn't terribly different from what is done at many county fairs across America. The key difference is that you dip everything in some soy based sauce.

Knowing that I am a teacher, they also gave me a few playful gifts, such as construction paper and scissors, a ball and string, and a party blow toy. A friend who could not make it that night gave me a gift of a pancake with bean filling. THis was supposed to be my breakfast the next morning. I felt grateful, but stupid. I had similar such gifts to give them that I had picked up in New York before coming to Japan. However, I completely forgot to get them out of my bag, and so I was unable to give them away. So I made sure to pay for the meal in exchange. After a wonderful evening, I was very happy to make some new friends.

Day 9: part 2 - Dotombori and Namba

After leaving the museum a bit disappointed that I couldn't get the most out of it because of my lack of Japanese language, I headed to Dotombori, a popular neighborhood in Osaka. Not planning for my trip very well, my friends whom I was scheduled to see later this evening told me this was a popular spot that I might want to check out.

Bascially, Dotombori is a shopping district with lots of stores and restaurants near a canal that runs through the neighborhood. The first thing that struck me is that along the canal, there were almost no people. However, perpendicular to the canal, it was so crowded, where people flocked through what was basically a long street mall. This struck me because in many places that I have traveled in the past, it is along the canal that people enjoy walking, and having a drink or a meal. Perhaps I am unique in that I enjoy the water, and being near the water, and seeing the water flow by as I walk, or relax, or eat, or whatever. However, along the water, it was nearly devoid of people, and instead all of the people thronged through the shopping mall, as well as another street that ran parallel to the canal with many more shops and restaurants. This reminded me of a few years ago when I was in San Diego accompanied by a few Japanese friends. I suggested that we go near the waterfront to eat dinner, but they were much more interested in going to the shopping mall, and eating there. (To be sure, they did already accompany me near the waterfront one day for lunch, so perhaps they were bored, and wanted to see something different: a shopping mall.)

After walking along the canal, I walked back through the street that was mostly restaurants, and ran parallel (about a block away) to the canal. It was here that I saw many of the crab restaurants that this neighborhood is famous for. Though I am not sure if these places are famous for their crab dishes, or the elaborate crab sculptures that serve as signage. (Because I am not much of a food conosseur, I foolishly did not try the crab.)

After walking through this street lined with restaurants, I then walked through the shopping promenade that ran perpendicular to the canal, where I saw many stores that were typical for a shopping mall. More interesting to me than the stores was simply the fact that there were so many. It was basically a pedestrian promenade that went for what must have been about a mile. A mile-long covered promenade with lined with fancy stores! Although I wasn't interested in shopping or buying anything, I could still appreciate this monument to commerce. At first I had thought about what great business opportunities might lie along the canal, but if everything in this neighborhood is within this shopping promenade, then it seems like it woudl be quite a gamble to open a shop or restaurant along the canal. (To be sure, there were a few along the canal, but only a few, and those that were open were not very crowded with customers.

After walking all around this Dotombori neighborhood, I decided to go back to the hotel and rest a bit before visiting my new friends later that evening.

Just to be clarify my own thoughts (and perhaps confuse the reader with information that is probably inaccurate), it seems that the neighborhood is called Namba, the street with the crab restaurants is called Dotombori, and the promenade shopping mall is called Sai-Bashi Suji.

Day 9: part 1 - GeGeGe no Kitaro

I woke up on Thursday morning not knowing what I would do today. All I knew is that later in the evening I had to meet some new friends. In fact, I had never met these people before, yet they were the whole reason that I decided to revisit Osaka. At this point, it seemed like a stupid decision, and I didn't feel like I was in a social mood, reasoning that I would probably never see these folks again. In any case, the plans were made, and I didn't feel like I could break them now. So I had to find some way to spend the time before the evening.

One thing that seemed like it would be fun was an exhibition of GeGeGe no Kintaro, a Japanese comic by Mizuki Shigeru. I had seen ads for it in the Osaka information booths, and so I decided to check it out. I was looking forward to making a significant part of my Japanese tour a trip to a remote sea-side town of Sakaiminato. The reason I wanted to go there was because they have a museum dedicated to hometown hero Mizuki Shigeru. Well, here I was in not-so-remote Osaka, with an opportunity to see a Mizuki exhibition.

However, this museum was in a more remote part of Osaka. I had to take a couple of trains to get there, and then walk a little ways. I think the charm of heading to this area is really the giant ferris wheel and the aquarium. Although of all sea life I love whales and jellyfish, I was fairly certain that they would not have any whales on display (at least not the big ones), so the prospect of seeing jellyfish did not justify the entrance fee for me. So I skipped the aquarium, and went to the museum next door to see the Mizuki exhibition.

Although I am interested in a specific work of Mizuki's that is related to the war, it seems that he is most famous for a children's comic called GeGeGe no Kintaro. I have not read it, but it is supposedly about a little boy who encounters Yokai, or monsters or ghouls, around his country-side home. I was very curious to explore the culture of the Yokai in Japan, and see what I could learn from the exhibition. However, unlike all the other museums I have been to in Japan so far, this exhibition had not English accompaniment at all. So, basically all I could see were his illustrations, along with bronze sculptures and amusement type figure that looked like they belonged in a county fair fun house, though these were much more skillfully sculpted.

Unfortunately, I did not catch the name of the museum, as it was not displayed anywhere in English, but from the ads I saw that featured the next exhibition, it seemed that it was a museum that specialized in illustration of one sort or another. Furthermore, having seen this exhibition, perhaps I would feel a bit better about skipping the arduous trip to Sakaiminato that I had scheduled in a coule of days.

Day 8: part 2 - Nara

After settling in and resting for just a short while, I decided to get on the train and head to Nara. I was surprised to learn that Nara is close enough to Osaka, and convenient to where I am staying; I was able to take the train from my hotel straight to Nara, without having to go to a more central station. It only took about 40 minutes.

Without any real information as to what was where, or what there was to see, I knew that there must be an information center, and so I stopped by there first. I didn't bother to ask any questions, but I did get a map, and it was easy to see where I should go from the train station. I walked for about 15 minutes before I got to the main park where many of the key sites, shrines, and temples are. But walking along one street to the park, it is easy to see that this neighborhood really takes advantage of the tourists that come to see Nara, as there were many traditional Japanese restaurants, and many souvenir shops.

Since the previous day's dance class had ingrained in me the idea that I had to come to Nara and visit the National Treasures Museum to see the sculpture of Ashura, with six arms, two in prayer that are almost touching, Kamihitoe. Other sculptures were of six patriarchs of Japanese Buddhism in Japan. The first one was sculpted with a face that reminded me of Ohno Yoshito, my dance teacher in Yokohama.

Because I rested in the room before coming to Nara, I got here a bit later in the afternoon, and so there wasn't as much time to see different places before they closed for the day. (Of course, I would be able to walk around these big buildings and sites, but not within them. Right when I got to the Todai-ji Buddhist temple, it was about to close, but I was lucky enough to get in before it closed and see the world's largest bronze sculpture of Buddha. It was neat.

After that I walked to the hill at the end of the historic sites where the Kasuga Shrine sits. It was nice enough, but what I really enjoyed was just walking along the paths through the hills. One of the most awesome features of the historic sites of Nara is that there are deer walking everywhere. They are still wild animals, but like the pigeons in New York City, they are so accustomed to people that it is easy to walk right up to them and pet them, or feed them. In fact, there are a lot of people through the park that are selling little crackers to feed the deer. I suppose that they are so used to people feeding them, that it seems like their first instinct was to come up to people, and then when I offer nothing, they turn and walk away.

Before too long, walking with the deer in the hills, it was getting dark, so I turned around and headed back to the train station. Rather than walk back the same way I came, I walked down a more residential street, seeing that many of the homes had traditional architecture, contributing to the ambience of the whole area.

Day 8: part 1 - returning to Osaka

From Tokyo, I decided to head back down to Osaka. To be sure, this is not the most efficienctly planned trip in the history of Japanese travel. The main reason for this back and forth is that I am trying to make the time work for these dance classes I am taking in Yokohama. Because they take place on Sundays and Tuesdays, that means around those days I have to be in or around Yokohama (I stay in Tokyo on these days), and I have the rest of the week to see the other parts of Japan. So that's why I am doing a bit of backtracking during my trip.

I decided that I would stay in a hotel in Osaka, and then after settling in, I would take the train to Nara. Technically, it was before the 3pm check-in time, so I wasn't sure if the hotel would allow me to keep my bags here until later, or what the deal might be. Should I just avoid the gamble and leave my bags at the nearest big train station, or should I gamble that this little hostel type place would actually take my bags and/ or check me in early? If place were anything like the previous place, that probably wouldn't work. Eh, what the hell; so I tried to manage where the hotel might be, and would take the gamble that they would take my stuff early.

They welcomed me very nicely, let me check in, and I was able to leave my bags in my room without having to had gotten a coin locker first. This place, though only a bit more expensive than the previous place, was so much better than the last place. I splurged for my own private room, and I think the $2 more a day was worth it! I was so happy to have a private room that I almost considered not even leaving the room, and staying in to sleep.

Day 7: part 4 - Getting home

It was a bit stressful getting home. This wasn't because any of the trains were difficult to transfer, but because I was pushing very close to the last train of the night. I knew that I could get into Tokyo just fine from where I was in Yokohama, but there is that one last transfer that I would have to make in Ueno to get to my hotel in Asakusa. This would be a challenge because it was getting dangerously close to midnight as we approached Ueno. Calculating the current time, and the time the train was expected to get to Ueno, I realized that it would be a few minutes after midnight when I would get to Ueno. I prayed that one last train would be able to connect me from Ueno to Asakusa. Since Asakusa and Ueno are both towards the end of the Ginza train line, I figured that they would have had to stop the train service at 11:30 for me to not be able to transfer at 12:06. But still, the spectre of walking home still haunted me. It was not that far, but with all the big buildings, it is hard to get my bearings and figure out which direction it is I should be walking, if it would come to that.

It did not have to come to that, and I was able to get a train from Ueno to Asakusa. This was close. Kamihitoe.

Day 7: part 3 - second dance class

I was very excited to take my second butoh dance class with Ohno Yoshito. I decided to leave a little bit earlier than maybe I should because without help, I still didn't know how to get to the studio. So I got to the same spot I arrived last time, except this time there was nobody there to help me. I looked, and turned the wrong way again, but finally I figured out the trick. I got there with more than an hour to kill, and that was fine with me. Just being in the studio by myself was felt like something special was happening.

Walking through narrow alley-like roads in the dark was a bit scary. However, once I found the place, past the small bamboo grove, I felt better.

As luck would have it, the guy who I thought was the best dancer was there. We had a chance to talk. He told me that he had been a student with Ohno-sensei for about four years now. Doing the math in my head, that meant that he must have started when Ohno Kazuo was still alive. Perhaps he met him. I didn't ask. (Kazuo would have been very old, and very infirmed at the time.) He also told me that he was not, in fact, a dancer, but was a pantomime. I did a double take, and asked him to really explain that to me. When I think of a mime, I think of clowns who pretend they are in boxes. He said that there was more to it than that, especially in contemporary art pantomime. If you are in a box, he told me, then you have to reveal why you are in the box, what the box is made of, how the box makes you feel. It sounded to me like it was a lot deeper and profound than performing at the beach for kids.

I was disappointed at myself when the lesson started because last time I took notes after the class, trying to put everything together, and I think that motivated one of my new friends to take notes during the class this time. She obviously took it one step further. Why didn't I have a paper and pen in my pocket like she did? Next time. However, I will try to relay the few things that I really did like about the class. I am sure that I am describing some of this out of order, but I am retelling it as the memories come back to me. It is like catching lightning; I don't know where it will be, so I must just reach out when I think I've got it.

This time Ohno-sensei started us with the idea of a stone. Be a stone. In Japan, gods are found in stones in the form of jizo sculptures. In Europe, many large churches are made of stone; in Japan, religious places are made of wood. Be a stone. Walk. I recognized the music from the last class. Then he reminded us that stone is hard, but it can change. People sculpt with stone. Over millions of years, stones weather and change and grow. He also reminded us to bring our own history and understanding into this. Be a stone. Walk. More music. The jizo reference gave me two features. The first is that many jizo sculptures of child-like, and have a gentle smile. Another thing it reminded me of was the short story "The Third Night" by Natsume Soseki. In it a man has a dream of a heavy stone jizo on his back while he walks through a dark forest, and he finally realizes that the jizo is of a man he killed a hundred years earlier. These ideas motivated my stone walk.

The second lesson was with the flower again. He reminded us to walk as though there was a funeral for the flower. He also pointed to a poster of Hijikata Tatsumi, and said that Hijikata always liked to have a hand out for the birds; he loved birds so much he wanted to become one. Walk. Then he reminded us that the feet are very important. We should listen to our feet. When we listen carefully to our feet, it affects how we move our feet. Walk.

He also went through a similar lesson last time by holding your hands together paper thin. He shared the Japanese word for it: Kamihitoe. He explained how the distance of a thickness of a tissue is of the utmost importance. When a plane almost crashes, in Japan they say, "kamihitoe," paper-thin. In English, don't we say, "that was close!"? Well, in Japanese they say how close it was: paper thin. I was reminded of the conversation before the class with my new friend. He showed me a poster that Ohno-sensei would later share with the class. It was a sculpture of a Buddha that is housed in a museum of Nara. Before the class, my friend asked me if I was going to Nara, then I should see this sculpture. Ohno-sensei showed the picture, and how the sculpture has two of its many hands praying, touching, but not quite, kamihitoe, paper-thin. Wow. Now I have to go Nara, if only to see this sculpture.

We utilized the tissue again to illustrate the delicacy of life. The delicacy of the tissue is such that it easily falls, and floats from our hands. Yet we can make a flower out of it. Make a flower. Your hands make it soft, make it happy or sad. Your hands are important. Make a flower. Let it go.

Ohno-sensei told us of a painting he (or his father, I can't remember which) saw. It was of an insect, he couldn't tell me in English what kind of insect it was, but he knew it in Japanese. The insect was catching lightning. Hah! Catch lightning.

Continuing to work with our hands, Ohno gave us the direction that we had the universe in our hands. In one hand, we hold the moon. In the other hand we hold the sun. Dance. I could only interpret the gravity of such a scenario; what would it be like to hold the universe in my hands? Everything, everyone, would be dependent on me for existence. I thought of Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Like Atlas, I would still be hunched over, with the sun and moon pulling my arms down... How do I feel about carrying the sun and moon and universe? Dance.

He then went on to tell us of the duality between Hijikata and Kazuo. Hijikata was darkness, and his father was light. Hijikata was Buddhist and Kazuo was Christian. Hijikata was always conscious of the ghosts surrounding him, watching him. What do you get when you combine the two masters? Being a student of both Hijikata and Kazuo, that means that Yoshito is empty.

He ended the class with another flower metaphor. There are three-day flowers. On the first day, the flower grows its bud. On the second day, the flower blooms. On the third day, the flower withers. Be a first day flower. Good. Now be a second day flower. Good. The class ended before we could become the third day flower. Writing this now, I wonder how I might have interpreted that, and if I would have made the connection that I am making now with the short story I mentioned earlier, "The Third Night," which isn't about flowers, but does involve death and the number three. What might that mean? How would it be danced?

After the class, I was able to stay longer this time since I had nobody waiting for me. However, in the back of my mind was the fact that in their wonderful efficiency, the Japanese trains stop running after midnight, something that I'm not used to in New York. So even though I stayed as long as anyone, that was always in the back of my head.

While drinking tea and eating snacks, I gathered up the courage to ask Ohno-sensei a few questions. I asked about a beautiful photo of him and Hijikata dancing their "Kinjiki" dance. I had previously seen the photo in a book I read. I asked him if it was "Kinjiki, " and he confirmed it was. Being that it was a dance based on a book my Mishima Yukio (my favorite Japanese writer), I asked if he knew Mishima. He said that he had met him many times, and even performed the dance for him in private, right there in the studio. That I was in the same studio, with the same dancer that so much history was made gripped my soul.